


The Worst Day

by Callisto



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“My stuff. Amazing. So retentive about wet towels and tupperware, yet there are CDs down there not in their cases, books wrapped in bedsheets, and - it breaks my heart to say this - a set of broken drums.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Day

“This may be the worst day of your life, Jim.”

“Pancakes...maple syrup...a day off. Don’t think so, Chief.”

“Well, dig in. There’s a reason for this indulgent spread you see before you. You pack for shit, you know that?"

“I don’t see-”

“My stuff. Amazing. So retentive about wet towels and tupperware, yet there are CDs down there not in their cases, books wrapped in bedsheets, and - it breaks my heart to say this - a broken set of drums.”

“Yeah, about those. I wasn’t exactly... shit.”

“Hey.”

“Not my finest hour, Chief.”

“Not mine, either.”

“So... the breakfast?”

“Is for calories. For strength as you bring it all back up from the basement. Oh, and so that you’ll feel less inclined to hit me when I tell you something.”

“Blair, I’ve felt many things recently, but it’s been a while since I wanted to slug you. In fact, I’ve more of an urge to put the last of the syrup to good use and blow you on the kitchen table.”

“Jim! Now look what you made me do. You’re mopping that up, Ellison.”

“Sure you wouldn’t like me to mop something else up?”

“Unhand me!”

“Unhand me? Jesus, what is this, the 17th century?”

“Hey, don’t walk away. Just... later, okay? I need my stuff, man. And you promised.”

 _Later..._

“Boxes are up, weird shit is all in place again, blew you on the bed not the table. I don’t get it, Sandburg, where’s the worst day?”

“Naomi’s coming. I told her she could stay here. And Simon phoned. We’re on a midnight stakeout in the middle of nowhere.”

“Nah, still not the worst. C’mere.”

“Why, Jim, you sentimental mushball you. Ow!”

“Too far, Chief. Not enough pancakes in the world for that kind of name calling.”

******


End file.
